Interview with the Vampire slayer
by KharBevNor
Summary: A fledgling vampire and an immortal priest, chatting away in a crowded pub at one thirty on Christmas morning...(Possible ooc warning)


DISCLAIMER: 

Khar: I don't own Hellsing…..yet! Now, Hirano-sensei, just sign here…

Kouto Hirano: No! Never!

Khar: Very well then…

Kouto Hirano: Nooooo! Not the thumb screws! 

:muffled screams are to be heard emanating from Khar's basement as the camera pans back:

I should also probably point out, for the record, that I don't own Glenfiddich whisky, Minis, Attila the Hun, Tanglefoot ale or Dracula…yet!

Laird of Glenfiddich: Dear grief man, what are you doing with that poker!  

A/N: It's Christmas morning, and I can't sleep. Time for another Hellsing fic, I do think. I really enjoy writing these! Seras centric, as always. Damn her vampiric cuteness, but this time she finds an unusual conversationalist, and I suppose its more about him, in a way. Probably OOC but I don't give a damn. Anime based (I understand they might explain part of Andersons past in the manga. I totally made up his birth-date and indeed everything else.) Inspired by reading in a history book that Holy Knights were not allowed to fight on Holy Days.

Deepest apologies to my good friend Alice for stealing your clothes to put on Seras.

Oh, and it really never does snow on Christmas day in Britain.

And, er, yes, the title is rather naff, but what are you going to do?

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            'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house, not a creature was, stirring…'

            Except for the vampires. And the soldiers on night shift, and sir Integra, and Walter, and the night servants, and the secretarial staff. In Hellsing, you slept in the day, if at all. The nights were when the monsters came out.

            But, it seemed, not this night. With nothing happening, and being the day it was, everyone was taking some much needed rest and relaxation. Even sir Integra was kicking back in front of her fireplace with a pot of tea, a box of cigars and a good book. Alucard was having a great time seeing how badly he could freak out the secretaries by using his telekinesis to re-arrange their desks whilst they weren't looking, Walter was reminiscing on past days over a photo album, a glass of Glenfiddich nearby. The soldiers were playing pool and trying to be as merry as possible on orange juice, since there was still the possibility of a mission. All of them were greatly looking forward to 4AM, when their commanding officer informed them that, if there had been no alarm call, they were breaking out the alcohol. There were even, as surprising as it may sound, Christmas decorations up around the mansion, though decidedly tasteful ones, nothing tawdry. A great Christmas tree with sparkling lights stood by the stairs in the main hall, and other rooms displayed lights, ornaments, even some tinsel in some places.

            Seras stood back from her own Christmas decorations in her room, and gave a broad grin, which looked far more disturbing on her than it had a right to. Her room was just about the one place where you could honestly say that tackiness had invaded. From her lametta-strewn artificial Christmas tree, to the tinsel she had put round the edge of her coffin, her room was unhealthily cheery. She had even put on a CD of Christmassy music on her stereo, recently moved there from her old flat. She swayed slightly to the jingly music as she moved to her wardrobe and started to dress to go out. Thick jeans, a blue Kashmir jumper, Afghan coat, uniform ankle boots and a blue woolen hat. Looking over her now quite large collection of eye-ware (she hated attracting stares, and found that even tinted sunglasses at night attract less attention than crimson eyes). She decided on a nice slim pair with red-tinted lenses, since, when you looked at it, red eyes did actually complement her other features quite nicely.

            Watch yourself there, Seras. She thought, you'll become as egotistical as Master if you go on thinking like that. 

            She grinned, imagining herself as some female version of Alucard, a long red Victorian gown, pentagram gloves, round framed orange-lensed sunglasses, blonde hair falling to her waist.

            It was not an altogether displeasing image, when she thought about it.

            Smiling jollily, she slung a small rucksack over one shoulder, and made her way up the stairs, out through the great hall, and into the night. It was cold and crisp, no snow (but when had it ever snowed at Christmas? People made wild bets on it every year), but at least it was not raining. Walking round the corner of the mansion, she arrived at the motor pool, where, sitting incongruously next to APC's and Sir Integra's Rolls Royce, was her own car, a mini cooper.  She had purchased it with the money Hellsing had somehow managed to fiddle out of her bank account for her, which included her payments for her police pension and her own life insurance, which had come in handy. And of course, since she now had no living expenses, she could finally purchase a car. A very small car, but still a car. Her master scoffed at her, and redoubled his efforts in teaching her how to move by supernatural means, but she just wasn't any good. She could _turn_ into the bats just fine, and even put herself back together afterwards, but actually getting the little sods to move anywhere in a concerted fashion really was beyond her. She had managed to get to Oxford once, but had become lost on the way back, and had had to keep reconstituting herself and asking for directions, something her Master found highly amusing. However, nowhere near as embarrassing, or painful, as the time she had managed to get a good portion of herself sucked through an aircrafts jet engine, or the time she had flown into a storm cloud and ended up sleeping the day in a cave in Cornwall whilst Hellsing sent a helicopter for her.

            She was, she had to admit, pretty much a failure as a vampire. Oh well. She had plenty of time to get better. Eternity, in fact.

            She unlocked the car door and started the engine after only a few tries, and drove off down the drive, out of the gates, and into the night. 

            After maybe half an hour, she found herself parking in one of London's less downmarket districts, and wandering through the last bustle of shoppers. She was drinking beer (it had no effect, but it was still nice) in a pub called the _Eagle and Child_ when midnight came. She cheered with the rest, perhaps keeping her mouth closed more than some, and had another beer, moving to a table on her own, just sitting back and absorbing the atmosphere, feeling unusually uplifted and happy.

            "How's the throat, vampire?" asked a deep Scots voice behind her.

            She sat bolt upright, her face locked in an expression of numb terror. The priest slowly circled her, and then, to her amazement, he sat down opposite her, a pint glass in one hand, and a cheerful grin on his face.

            What the hell? The last time Seras had met the priest, on the underground train, he had killed four of her squad and made his best efforts to throw a blade through her head several times.

            And now, he sat down opposite her, smiling?

            After a good minute, she finally plucked up the courage to speak "Why…" she whispered.

            "Am I not doing my utmost to send you down to the deepest pits of hell?" Finished off Anderson. Then he laughed. "I'm a knight of the Church. I am forbidden from fighting on Holy Days. Instead, I am bid to spread the word of Christ, and celebrate them as I see fit. He laughed again. "I've been celebrating anyway."

            Then it struck her.

            "You're drunk aren't you?" she said, slowly. 

            "Aye. I didn't stop after I took the wine at midnight mass. " He said cheerfully, as he finished off his pint. 

            Oh dear goodness, thought Seras, I am sitting here, unarmed, in a pub, with a man who has sworn his life away to destroy my kind, and he's not only drunk, but trying to engage me socially.

            "Why…" She began again

            "Why am I talking to you, Seras?" He laughed again. He really was quite drunk. "I was out, er, reveling, you might say, and I sensed you here. And I thought to myself, 'Alexander, me old son, why don't you go pay an old acquaintance a visit.'" He laughed again. "It's a lonely line of work, being a monster who kills monsters, as I'm sure you're aware."

            She nodded slowly.

            "Did you know, not everyone in the Vatican even approves of the existence of me or the other regenerators, would you believe that? There's those who say that Iscariot went too far when it made us, that they meddled with what they don't know, or at least, what they shouldn't have known."

            He laughed again.

            "Because, Seras Victoria, do you know what we are?"

            She shook her head, slowly.

            "We're related to you. We are ourselves abominations. I don't know how they did it, but I've seen the laboratories, I saw them when they transformed my imperfect human body into something more approaching the divine." He finished his beer. "Racks and racks of blood, Seras, and other fluids, from vampires, werewolves, buvanci, all sorts of creatures of the night. They blended them all together somehow, trying to find the perfect blend of strengths and weaknesses." He shook his head "Do you find it ironic Seras, that I, one sworn to destroy you vampires, have your blood in my veins? My ability to regenerate, among other things, derives from you."

            "I suppose" she said, summoning up the courage to speak, "It's not as bad as a vampire sworn to an agency dedicated to ridding the earth of them."

            He chuckled from his throat.

            "The earth never will and must never be fully rid of monsters, Seras. Because, without them, we would be the monsters, and they would hunt us. You, me, Alucard, the other regenerators at the Vatican, the dhampirs employed by the Americans…they would be next on the list. Do you remember when your Master said 'Only a man can kill a monster'?"

            She nodded.

            "The bastard was lying through his blood-stained teeth. Look throughout the world, Victoria, find out all the vampire hunters, exorcists and killers of the undead, and what do you find? At the lower level, the level of your really quite pathetic Hellsing soldiers, there are humans, but, on the top tier, our tier, there's hardly a human to be seen. Regenerators, werewolves, half-werewolves, vampires, dhampirs, witches, immortalists… inhuman, all of us, but all of us killing other inhumans to keep the humans safe."

            He raised a wagging finger.

            "But! What do we get in return, Seras? What do we get in return? We get scorn, Seras. We get hate, fear, loathing, rejection. Our immortal nature forces us outside the bonds of human company, and we find ourselves drinking ale with demons at one AM on Christmas day. Oh, if only they could see me now! Passing the time of night with an impure monster. Those fat old bishops at the Vatican would have something to say about that!"

            He banged the table with his fist. "But if _you_ are an impure monster, you who have never killed an innocent human, never drunk warm blood, then what am I? I have left a trail of innocent human lives brutally ended across the world, cut short by my blades. Cursed things have as much innocent blood on them as the sword of Attila the Hun! What kind of priest am I? Huh? I curse, I swear, I think impure thoughts, I get drunk, I consort with the undead" he waved a hand at Seras, who was just thankful the priests conversation was drowned out by the party atmosphere, "I kill without remorse and _enjoy it_. That's what they couldn't take out of the blood they gave me, the essence of the vampire, of the lycanthrope. The joy of the hunt and the sweet satisfaction of the kill!"

            He spat. "I need another drink. What are you having, this one's on me."

            "Erm, a pint of Tanglefoot, please."

            "Right you are!" He said, and stood up, shouldering his way to the bar with sheer size and strength. He returned a minute later with two more pints, handed her hers, and sat down again.

            "What are you doing here anyway?" He asked, "I know for a fact vampires can't get drunk."

            She looked down into her reflection in her beer for a moment (another stupid legend) before finally speaking.

            "I wanted to try celebrating Christmas like a human." She smiled "I don't think I've done too bad a job either. I certainly managed to brighten up my room anyhow."

            "How does a vampire brighten up their room?" He asked, curiously, sipping at the head on his pint.

            She told him, and he burst out laughing.

            "That would be some sight." He said, grinning with mirth "positively macabre, you do realise?"

            She laughed. She hadn't thought of it like that, but, when she did, she supposed a coffin with Christmas decorations was a bit odd.

            They sat there for a good minute, slowly sipping on their beers, before Anderson started up again. "Okay, I've got an idea. Lets have a little game, if you will. You tell me how _you_ became a monster, and I'll tell you how _I_ became a monster." 

            Seras nodded, and took a moment to collect her thoughts.

            "It was one and a half years ago now." She said, her eyes lost in recollection "I was a unit medic with the D11 special police unit. You know of them?" The priest nodded "We had been sent to apprehend a mass murder, but…but it turned out…"

            "That he was a vampire." 

            "Yes…I was a lonely person before then, Father. My mother died giving birth to me, and my father went too when I was twelve. I lived with my aunt and uncle, but they didn't really care much for me. They were glad when I went off to study to become a police officer. Do you know, they didn't even come to my funeral?"

            "You had a funeral?" 

            "Oh yes." She said, a grim smile on her face "They lowered an empty casket, watched only by the priest, the gravediggers, one of those dotty old women who goes to all the funerals and a few token mourners from D11. No one cared that I had gone.

            "Anyway, that night, I lost all the friends that I had made into a surrogate family. Jack, Eugene, Andy… all of them reduced to shambling ghouls before my very eyes. I ran, ran through the woods, and I was trying to force myself to shoot a ghoul, when Alucard appeared. He dispatched it, and then did his best to scare me witless."

            Anderson laughed. "What did you do?" he asked.

            "I shot him. He just regenerated it and started laughing, so I ran off. At that point all I knew was that every creature from every horror film seemed to have suddenly become real, and they were chasing me through that forest, trying to kill me.

            "So I took sanctuary in the church."

            Anderson nodded. 

            "But," She laughed "I only realised too late my mistake. It was the priest we had been sent to apprehend. He was the vampire. He entranced me with his powers, and was about to drink my blood, when Alucard came. He fought with the vampire priests ghouls and destroyed them all, then, the bastard held me up like a human shield, in front of his heart, and Alucard was forced to give me a choice. He would shoot through my lungs to hit the vampires heart. I could either die then or join him as a vampire."

            "And, of course" said Anderson, taking another swig of beer "You didn't want to die. No sensible young woman of your age would have."

            "Indeed, so I said yes, he bit me, and here we are today. Now you."

            Anderson took another swig, and grimaced.

            "I was an introverted child. I went to a Catholic boarding school in Glasgow, where, I am ashamed to say, I was abused by one of the brothers." Seras shook her head in sympathy. Sympathy? Why the hell was she feeling sympathy? She was talking to a man who had tried to kill her several times, but the situation, here and now…it was so different. Anderson looked so much more human in this warm interior light. She could see the lines on his face, the stubble on his chin, the spots of dirt on his glasses. No reflection of moonlight on wolf-like teeth and gleaming lens, no shadowed eyes under the glare of torchlight. He looked just like a normal man, tall and wild to be certain, his priestly clothes incongruous, but still a man. She, she knew, must have looked almost normal as well. She had drunk blood before coming out, so she would have some colour in her cheeks, she was drinking a normal drink, her red eyes concealed by her glasses. An odd pair to be sure, but how could any of these onlookers have guessed the truth? A vampire and an immortal priest, chatting away in a crowded pub at one thirty on Christmas morning. 

            "Anyway," continued Anderson "I was introverted, but I did well in my studies. I showed a true and devoted belief in Christ and his teachings, I read the bible through and through, and I excelled at other subjects as well. Maths, science, history, geography. A star pupil indeed. This was, you understand, in the 1920's."

            Seras choked.

            "You're eighty years old!?"

            "Nay lass, I'm ninety to be precise, born in the year of our lord 1914. I ceased to age when the Vatican scientists changed me, but I will come to that."  
            He took another sip of his beer.

            "I decided to train to become a priest. I was nineteen when the news came that my parents, my brother, his wife, my nephew and my two sisters, all my immediate family, had been brutally murdered. I was shocked. I threw myself into my studies with increased fervour. Then, two days later, a man arrived from Rome. He called me in to a private meeting."

            Anderson blinked once or twice, and removed his glasses to wipe them with a handkerchief whilst he continued.

            "He told me that word of my tragic loss had come to Rome, and also word of my diligence. Then, he asked me if I wanted to know who had really killed my family. I said yes, and that was when he told me it all. Vampires, werewolves, undead, demons and non-humans of all sorts, he told me all about them that day.

            "Then, _he_ gave me a choice. He said that he could give me the blessed power to fight the abominations that had killed my family. I could become a knight paladin of the Holy Roman church, I would sacrifice my humanity to the glory of God, in order to become his arm on this earth, his divine instrument in the holy fight. The price would be to stay on earth forever, never to join with my lord in heaven.

            "I said yes."

            He took another deep draft of his beer, draining it almost to the bottom.

            "They took me to Rome. There, I learnt the art of the Paladin. Weapons, lore, magic, they taught me all my skills. Then, when I had learned as much as I could, they performed the final step. Only heaven itself knows exactly what was in the injections I was given: the blood of all sorts of creatures, chemicals I don't even want to think about…they hurt like nothing else, that's all I know, and the last injection, directly into the heart, hurt so much I fell unconscious.

            "When I awoke I was no longer human. I could see in the dark, though I still needed glasses. My sense of smell was uncanny, my hearing so sharp I could hear blood flowing in peoples veins" Seras nodded at that. Anderson couldn't know what it was like to have that and the blood-lust… "I was stronger, much stronger. Faster too. They trained me again, and I showed special aptitude with the blade, and with the magic that can be called by holy writ. So, they finally finished me, ordained me, a monster of God, a knight Paladin. This was 1938. War was imminent. I was sent on a few missions, here and there, exterminating random incursions of the undead. Then World War two started, and I was recalled to the Vatican. I was tasked with defending the Vatican and Italy against the dark forces that had been driven out by the war. It was there, in Venice, that I first met Alucard, though he would not remember it. He was fighting whatever hideous monsters the Nazis had created for themselves, and I got caught in the crossfire. I killed countless ghouls, vampires and werewolves, but then, at the end, I was on my knees, in front of that red-caped demon. Oh, Seras Victoria, though you share his blood I pray you may never become as he. He mocked me, taunted me, tortured me. Bullets found my tendons and bones, his boot and his fist smashed my body. And there, in my darkest hour, when my faith and my belief deserted me, to the sound of his laughter, I picked up the discarded gun of a Nazi vampire, and tried to end my life. I put the gun to my lips, pulled the trigger. But, to my horror, I was still alive. I fired again, and again, and again, and then it clicked empty. Even with five bullets in my brain I could not die. He mocked me once again, then, taking a piece of stone, he tied me to it and dropped me to the bottom of the canal. I lay there, underwater, my lungs full of filth, racked with hunger and pain, for three long days and nights before they found me. I've always been a bit…odd, after that. They say my brain didn't quite regenerate correctly, and there may be truth in it, I'll admit it myself. The echoes of the unholy thrill at battle and death that stir in my blood when I fight do not help. I doubt I would have killed humans so readily had he not destroyed my sanity. That is why I hunted him down with such vigour. The Vatican was scared of letting me come into contact with him before, they knew of his power you see, they did not want to lose me in some foolish vendetta."

            He stopped. Took a breath.

            "And it looks like my power is still not enough to defeat that monster..." He sighed "What's it like, Seras, being bound to him?"

            She thought for a moment.

            "He's always there. He's the only person I have in the world, everyone else I befriend just seems to die. I…you could say I love him, but like a father, though as a woman, well, sort of anyway, I can't deny that he does have a certain…something."

            "Boyish good looks?" asked Anderson, his downcast face breaking into laughter once again. "Natural charm and charisma? You do know that he was once widely known throughout Europe for sticking sharp poles up peoples arses and watching as they were slowly impaled?"

            "Then he is Vlad the Impaler?" she asked. She had suspected, Sir Integra had damn near told her as much, when she had been in one of her more contemplative moods once, "He is Dracula?" 

            "Hah!" Anderson laughed "Dracula! I'd have liked to have met Stoker, I really would. I'd have loved to have known how he could know so much and yet get so much wrong. It's astounding." He laughed once more, and Seras wondered how a man could change so fast. Madness? Alcohol? Probably both.

            The priest chuckled again, then looked at his watch.

            "My, my, it's getting late. I have to be up in the morning for the service. Its been pleasant to have someone to talk all these things over with, Seras." 

            "Yes…But…"

            "Yes, I know too. The next time we meet, we will have to do our utmost to kill each other. It's a shame really. In another world, we could have been great friends."  
            She nodded. "It's a pity that I and my master must send you to meet your maker at last."

            He grinned "I've been practising my bladecraft, Miss Victoria. I won't make the mistakes I made last time."

            "We'll see when it happens, won't we Anderson?"

            "Aye, we will. Fare thee well, child of Satan."

            And with that he walked off into the night.

            Seras drove back to the mansion in a thoughtful mood. That had been…surreal, to say the least. But she supposed that everyone needed someone to talk to. Wasn't that why they had confessions though?

            Come to think of it, did priests give confessions? If so, who too? Maybe they confessed to themselves. She had to admit that she really didn't know.

            Her car swung through the gates of the Mansion, and she gave a smile to the night guard, sitting there with his paper and his thermos of coffee. 

            She parked, locked her door, and walked slowly into the mansion and through the front door. She saw Walter on the main stair. 

            "Ah, Miss Victoria" he said, turning and coming back down a few steps. "I've just put sir Integra to bed. Now, I'm afraid that I am exceptionally tired, and probably have had a bit too much whisky. If I don't wake early enough, you do know where the blood packets for your supper are kept?"

            She nodded. It was an unwritten agreement that she was allowed to filch them before going on or coming back from missions, when she really needed it.

            Walter smiled "Alucard of course would think nothing of taking the whole contents of the refrigerator if he felt a bit peckish. We needn't worry about him. Where have you been, by the way?"

            "Oh, just out for a quiet drink." Seeing the expression of alarm begin to form on Walters face she added "Just beer. I wouldn't want you to be thinking I'd been dining on revellers or anything…" She trailed off into a giggle.

            "If course not, Miss Victoria. You have more control. Anything interesting happen?"

            "Nothing much. Well, I did have a very interesting conversation with an old drunk. Poor man, must have been ninety, babbling on about goodness knows what."

            "Well, at least he got merry at Christmas." Said Walter jovially, and then he yawned. "Really Miss Victoria, I must get to my bed. You're free to use the library or the shooting range or whatever, if you wish to amuse yourself till morning. I doubt there will be a mission tonight."

            "Thank you Walter, and good night."

            She turned and walked off down the basement stairs, her lips pursed as she made her best attempt to whistle 'Jingle Bells'.

            Walter turned back, and walked on up the stairs. He met Alucard at the top.

            "Retiring for the night, Walter?" Asked the vampire, grinning like a Cheshire cat. 

            "Yes Alucard. As always, you are free to roam the mansion, except for Integra's room."

            "Why Walter, would I creep up on my master whilst she slept in sweet, innocent sleep?"

            Walter simply raised one eyebrow.

            "I saw you talking with the police-girl by the way. Did she have anything interesting to say?"

            "Just some tale about an old drunk who accosted her in a pub."

            "Did she feed on him?"

            "Certainly not!"

            "Good for her. The blood of drunkards tastes revolting, even if they're virgins it still…"

            "Good night, Lord Alucard."

            "Good night, Walter."

            And with that, the old man went off down the corridor to his room, and the master vampire, grinning slightly, sunk through the floor, dropping down behind a maid who was cleaning one of the paintings that lined the Mansion's hallways.

            "Boo." He said, calmly.

            The screams split the night as Alucard laughed. "And a pleasant Christmas to you too, Miss." He said.

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A/N: Yeah, this fic was pretty rambling wasn't it. I just sort of let it write itself. This probably knocks the manga plotline six ways to Sunday, but I haven't read the Manga yet.

Soon though.

_Very_ soon…

Oh, and even though it's a few hours late (At least where I am) Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.


End file.
